Sometimes He Has These Fits
by Armygirl0604
Summary: I don't mean to be some weak little girl, but I love him. And when I see him fall apart, it doesn't matter how strong I've become. When the madness takes over his soul, I can't control it, I fall apart too. Dark themes, NOT SLASH. I don't own Soul Eater.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes he has these fits. They burn straight through his soul, making him scream and writhe in pain. He shakes and cries and talks nonsense. And he _plays._ The piano keys jangle, making harsh sounds that even Chrona cringes at, and he lives with Ragnarok's screams.

Sometimes he doesn't know who I am, during these. I think that's the worst part. Not the shaking or the crying, not the screaming, the swearing, the angry words he spits at me. I know he doesn't mean the things he says, and I can hold him while he cries. I can handle those. It's when he looks at me and _he doesn't know me_ that I fall apart. I can take the tears, the shrieks and harsh words, but I can't take the blank stares. I can't take the monotone that doesn't sound like him at all, asking me, "Who are you?"

There are other times he forgets, too. That's when I know a fit is coming. There are signs. He starts forgetting things, little things like where we keep the olive oil, or how to tie his shoes. How to use the remote. How to open that window in the back room that always sticks a little, just enough that you have to jiggle one of the latches a bit. His hands shake at random. He gets headaches, feels tired. He does strange things, like unplugging the phone and television and wi-fi because if he doesn't 'they'll watch us while we sleep.' He moves furniture, and hides things like lighters and spoons. Candles show up in strange places, cut in half or carved into with strokes that look like they came from a scythe. He leaves his laundry in the washer and forgets to switch it out. I find things put back in the wrong place, like putting the silverware in the oven or the cereal in the dishwasher.

He's closed off, right before. Exactly two days prior, if we didn't see the signs before, we get the message loud and clear that it's coming. He's quiet and distant, disconnected. Not troubled, but…off. Stein says he's almost catatonic, and I have to agree. It's like he's just…_gone._

Sometimes he notices a fit is coming. He fights it, or he tries to, anyways. But he can't. It takes over, it always does. He never wins, in the end.

The fit comes in stages. There's that first preamble, the signs that it's coming. Then there's the strange changes in his personality, when he gets delicate and submissive, almost fearful of everyone. The times when he's fragile and obedient. We don't let Black*Star around him during these times. His manner of speaking comes on too strong. There's too much a chance Black*Star will manipulate him.

His sides come out, after that. They come in stages themselves. At first he's almost childlike, eager to please, innocent, really. He colors with Patti and watches cartoons with Blair. Then he's almost normal, and it seems like he's just distracted all the time. He settles into a deep, dark depression after that, one that can last for days at a time. He lies in bed, staring at the wall, his room shut and dark. Then he gets clingy, he can't let go of my arm. He's frightened, like a little child. If that personality sets in during the night, I wake up to find him in my bed when the night before his door had been barred and locked, all the lights off as he suffered silently.

I feel awful, but it's always embarrassing when he gets horny, after that. It's like he's Blair in heat. We usually lock him in his room, during this, and hearing him moan my name and promise to 'rock my world' if I'll just open the door sets my teeth on edge.

But then the next phase comes, the one I really can't take. If he was _just_ desperate, or _just_ needy, or _just _aroused, I could take it. I could even take two of them. But it's the combination of all three that's so deadly. It's when he's so desperate to please me, when he sees me not as his friend, but as his master, that I break. I'm not his friend, not his lover or even his sister. I'm his _master._ He goes to extreme lengths to show me this, begs on his hands and knees for me to treat him like a slave. It breaks my heart to hear his pleas. "Please, please, it hurts so much. Please, mistress, make it go away…" It doesn't seem to matter whether or not I give in, and he's told me when he's sane it doesn't affect him either way, he doesn't know the difference, but I hate to see the desolate look on his face when I reject his advances (if they can be called that.) So I pat his head and let him follow me around like an obedient puppy, and just make sure he keeps his hands off of me. It's not that I don't want them there, I just don't want them there when he's not _sane._ I want a lover, not a sex slave.

And after that comes the _rage._ His words are knives, he spits fire at everyone he sees, even his own family, his friends. I'm always his biggest target. I'm ugly, I'm stupid, a moron and an idiot. I'm useless and pathetic, and he hates everything about me. I bear it all in silence, because I know he doesn't mean it. He doesn't remember saying it, just like he doesn't remember anything else about his fits, but sometimes I think he gets the feeling he did something to upset me. When he gets that feeling, he showers me in praise and gifts and tells me what a wonderful partner I am, and makes sure I know he didn't mean it. He never apologizes, not outright, because that's not his way, but he tells me it was…_uncool,_ if you will, to say those things, and reminds me that I'm beautiful, and everything he wants. Sometimes, I even believe him.

It's when the pain sets in that it really starts to hurt. Black*Star is the strongest of us, and he restrains him, holding him down and making sure to keep the towel in his mouth so that he doesn't bite off his tongue. Black*Star is brutal, true, but sometimes, sitting on his chest and pinning him is the only thing that works. The madness that overtakes him controls him completely. He's utterly defenseless, and it's our job, all of ours, to protect him.

Sometimes I wish I could be the one he sought comfort in after he forgets us, when the tears start to fall. But the hysterics aren't for me, they aren't my job, my duty to wipe away. I can't comfort him when he's like that, when he screams for his mother and begs her to stop hitting him. He speaks so highly of her when he's sane, rains praises on her like she's a goddess, but when the madness comes through, we all know the truth. It makes me hope she's dead out there, since he hasn't seen her in so long we don't know, but anyone who can rape and abuse their own son deserves to die in my book. When he screams, I want to be the one to comfort him, but I can't. That ability doesn't lie with me, I can't do it. That power lies in Soul. Why, I don't know. Maybe it's because they both lost their mothers. So did Black*Star, but he can't comfort him, only Soul can. Maybe it's because his mother is alive, and, of all things, disowned him. My mother's gone, too, but that doesn't seem to matter. In truth, I think it's the madness inside Soul that really makes him the one who can comfort him. It's how calm and collected he is. It's amazing, how he interacts with him, how he takes care of him like he's an infant.

His name isn't Kid, when this part of the fit comes. It's his birth name, the one his mother gave to him. _Nick._ That was how he introduced himself the first time Soul approached him during a fit. And Soul was so gentle with him, so at ease. He never lets on, but he's got a soft spot for the weak, especially for children. And I suppose, really, Kid's a child in this state. He reverts back to the scared little kid whose mother locked him in a closet, who held a pillow over his face until he was too weak to struggle and then took advantage of his small, frail body. It's amazing how they interact, like right now.

Soul approaches him slowly. His hair and clothes are rumpled, he doesn't care about symmetry when he's like this. "Hey," Soul says softly. "Nicholas, it's me, Soul. Do you remember me?"

"Big brother Soul," he whimpers softly.

Soul smiles gently at him. "Yeah, that's me, big brother Soul. Do you want to tell me why you're curled up right here, instead of on the bed?"

Kid, or rather, _Nicholas_, scoots his fetal-positioned body even closer to the wall. "Because the monster will get me if I'm near the bed. If I hide she can't see me. Then she won't find me, and won't make me do bad things again."

This is a new advance for us, but Soul doesn't show any sign of shock or interest. He doesn't want to frighten Kid-no, _Nicholas_ away, or make him feel pushed. "Oh yeah?" he says, mildly interest in his voice. "What bad things will she make you do?"

"She…she makes me put my hands in places I don't want to, like on her. And she's all wet where she makes me put them, and it's icky. She feels all slimy and she makes scary noises. And she likes to make me do weird things, things that hurt."

"What things that hurt?" Soul asks, His voice is calm, but I can see that his shoulders are slightly tense, and I hope that Kid doesn't notice. If Nick thinks for a second that Soul is angry with _him, we'll lose this opportunity, this new breakthrough we've just gotten. _

"_She makes me put my hand in lit candle flames, and then…then she draws patterns on me and makes me follow the pen lines with a knife. She makes me lick things…things like the stove, and the toilet, and…and her. And then she…she touches me, she touches me all over and even when I ask her to stop she doesn't. And then the slimy part, it-it-it starts leaking and her legs get all slimy too. And she grabs me and makes it cover my…my…" Kid sniffles and trembles. "And then she jumps up and down with her bottom and crushes me and it hurts, it hurts so bad!" Tears leak faster down his face. "Make her go away, Soul, make her go away!" He begins sobbing, his body shaking entirely with his cries, and he suddenly seems as small as he acts, he seems very young, and very, very scared._

_Soul, sensing that it's time, pulls Kid's shuddering form to him. While his body is shaking, wracked with sobs, Soul holds him quietly. He says nothing, he never does. He just cradles the sobbing heap in his arms to his chest and waits it out. Like always. Eventually, Kid will wear himself out and fall silent. He'll fall asleep there on the floor with Soul, and Soul will pick him up and carry him to his bed. I'll comb his hair and dab the dried tears away with a washcloth, and he'll wake up remembering nothing, only knowing that days, even as much as two weeks, have passed without his knowledge, and he'll know. But he'll get up and keep going, pretending that nothing is wrong until a few months later, he puts the dishes in the freezer and we start all over._

_Sometimes he has these fits. They make him scream, and cry, and rage at the world. They make him crazy. I've gotten stronger since we met, everyone agrees on that. But when the madness takes over his soul, I can't control it. My tears still fall for him._

_Because sometimes, he has these fits. And I can't stop them._


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after is always quiet. It doesn't stay that way long, mostly because of Patty, but until at least ten, the house is silent. Kid sleeps off his fit. Patty colors him a get-well card with eight giraffes with eight spots each on them and watches television. I study, or try to.

Soul usually leaves after Kid falls asleep. Sometimes I wonder why he doesn't stay, but at the same time, I know that Maka needs him more than we do, after that. But last night he stayed longer, sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee with me long after Patty went to bed. The first half of the night, we were silent, but the time had come to discuss the breakthrough. "So Kid's mom was a pretty sick fuck, wasn't she? Uncool." Soul's face didn't change as he took another long drink from his mug.

At first, I just sat there. What could be said that we weren't both thinking? Soul kept going while I thought. "Liz, he needs help. He needs medication and therapy. Maybe sometime as an inpatient would do him some good. He-"

"_No._"

Soul looked startled for a moment before turning to see Patty standing behind us in the doorway. She gripped her giraffe tightly, glaring. "Kiddo doesn't need a crazy doctor. He needs _us._"

However, this time I couldn't agree. "Patty go back to bed. We'll talk about it later. Soul was just making a suggestion."

Instead, she sat down next to me and stole my untouched coffee mug. "Kiddo stays with us."

Soul and I exchanged a long look. "We'll see," I said aloud. But the unspoken agreement had been made.

Usually the morning after was almost peaceful. It was lighter, freer. However, today was filled with tension. Shinigami had made arrangements from Soul's and my suggestion. Patty would most likely never forgive us.

Convincing a sleepy, docile Kid to dress and get into the car that Shinigami sent was almost painfully easy. Getting Patty in was not.

"_How could you, Sis? How could you!?"_ She kicked at me. "NO NO NO NO NO! I won't let you! No! I don't wanna go with you, you're a bad sister and I hate you!"

In the end, the sleepy-eyed Kid watching from the doorway was what got her into the car. In the end, it was preferred to stay with him until the end.

Shinigami cared about his son. The care-center was close enough for easy visitation and was one of the finest that he could find. It was plush, pretty, and welcoming. Not sterile, organized, and hospital-like, as the ones we'd seen before. But that didn't change what it was, and by the time we'd driven up, Kid knew. His eyes looked sad; his body was slumped into defeat.

But he didn't let go of my hand for a single moment.

I hugged him when we said goodbye. I don't do hugs, but I hugged him. "I don't blame you," he whispered. "And I'm going to get better. I promise."

Patty screamed when we finally pried her away from him.

Three weeks went by. We heard nothing. Protocol said he had to write us and ask us to visit; we couldn't just walk in on visiting days. We had to be on his list. We received no letter.

Of all people, Black*Star was the first to receive one, along with Tsubaki. Her face, at least, was apologetic when they left to see him.

Next was Soul. He went alone. We heard nothing of Kid's status from him. Whatever they said, whatever he saw, and it wasn't for us to hear from him. Only Kid could tell us. If he ever decided to speak to us.

Two months later, Shinigami-Sama received a letter. He came back angry, wounded, and shocked by whatever Kid had told him. But still no letter came to Gallows Manor.

Maka received one. Chrona received one. Even Blair got a letter. Our mailbox stayed empty.

Eventually Patty stopped looking for one. Eventually, I stopped waiting.

_Dear Ms. and Ms. Thompson, _

_Upon the request of inpatient _**Death the Kid**_, you are invited to Visitors Day on Sunday, the 22__nd__ of September. We are pleased to inform you that your loved one will be awaiting your presence. _

_Your attendance is, however, under the enforced policy of working toward the benefit of the patient, and in the name of their healing process. Thank you, your understanding is appreciated._

_Woodfolk Mental Health Center_

_Patty wanted to wear a pink dress that day. Eventually we both ended up in blue button downs and jeans. Symmetry was key, after all. _

_He was skinnier than I remembered. Not that he'd ever been anything but on the scrawny side, but he seemed slimmer all the same. That could have been that he wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, though, which I'd never seen him wear. In fact, I'd never seen him in any color other than black. His hair was longer, his eyes brighter. His cheeks had more color. His skin was paler._

_He was smiling._

_The hesitant, shy grin was the most welcome sight in the world. "Liz…Patty…hi."_

_Patty jumped on him. "Hey Kiddy-Kid-Kiddo! How ya' been? We missed ya! Especially Big Sis, she missed you tons! When are ya coming home, huh? I drew you a card! Look, eight giraffes!"_

_Kid just hugged her. "I missed you, too, Patty." His eyes meet mine. "I missed both of you. So much."_

_Later, when Patty was distracted by playing checkers with a patient whose visitor had left, we finally talked. "Six months," was all I said. It was enough._

"_If I told you I can't talk about why, would you accept that it was the only way I could get better?"_

_I shrugged. If I had to, I would. "But still…six months."_

"_Yes, I know," he murmured. "But I'm better."_

"_You're better."_

"_Yes."_

"_How?"_

_He looked around the room, his eyes landing on everything but me. "Medication. Therapy. A long talk with my father."_

"_Why couldn't we be here? Why everyone but us?"_

"_Different reasons. Black*Star was…I needed a touch of normal. And as a first visitor, he was cheerful enough and unquestioning enough to be easy to deal with. Tsubaki was here for damage control. Soul I had to talk to about…everything. Chrona and the others were part of the steps I needed to heal. My father…deserved a visit. But you…if you had come it all would have been for nothing. I would have wanted to come home. I wouldn't heal. I'd still be…that."_

"_I missed you," I said._

_At the same time, he said, "I can come home."_

"_What?" My mouth dropped open. "When?"_

"_Next Tuesday." He smiled gently and it was so new, so healed, that it was almost foreign. "Will you be here? Will you come? If you don't want to, I understand. I kept you waiting. Father can send a car. But I'd like it if you were here."_

_This was the moment. The one that would change us: either break us or make us. I put my hand on his arm and smiled. He met my eyes and I pulled him forward, touching my lips to his. "Of course we'll come. We'll always come. It's what you do for the ones you love."_


End file.
